Oh Lazarus
by BrideOfSithis
Summary: "I'm cute as hell. Which, incidentally, is where I came from." With new breeds of enemy popping up in the zombie apocalypse, Phoebe seems to be the bad decision Rick is thankful for. But her instability leaves much to be desired. ::Rick/OC, Bethyl and demons as we progress because of my love of the supernatural:: please review, criticism is welcomed
1. Preface

_**This will eventually become an M rated fic, but until then we will keep this T rated because until that certain point, its mostly full of blood play. The inspiration came from the fan video Blood On My Name by lilamigo521 on Youtube. And Supernatural...I'm on a binge.**_

* * *

" _Nooool!_ "

The scream echoed through the air, even after the blade sliced clean through their abdomen. Blood pooled behind pearly white teeth and he gurgled as he collapsed. Wide, icey eyes took him in as he fell, blade still tight in her hand, blood dripping from her elbow.

So much **blood.**

 _"Lazarus,"_ she whispered, dropping the blade to stare at her bloody hands, staggering back a few steps.

"Monster," he gurgled. " _Monster!_ "

She blinked slowly, looking down at her hands again, she shook her head. "Monster," she murmured. "Close...," she blinked and her eyes swirled at the edges, black against ice. "Go a little higher."

His eyes widened and he trembled, watching her snatch up her blade and sheath it in her boot. She smiled a little, eyes consumed in darkness, and pulled her gun. The barrel danced in swirls of enlaid gold and silder, the handle sporting an ivory carving of Mother Mary.

"Doesn't matter anyway," she fired, spraying blood over the concrete untouched. She lowered her gun, slowly sliding it into the back of her jeans. In the same movement, she pulled a thin black stick from her pocket and raised her right arm, crossing through four tick marks. "127..."

* * *

 _ **See, supernatural. Trust me, we won't get crazy with this, trying to keep it as realistic as a zombie alocalypse with demons can get. Hope you all enjoy.**_


	2. Her

_**This is set between S3 and S4, with my own little twist obviously.**_

* * *

They were on a run, but isn't that how the story always start?

This was...a little different.

Third floor of the Shake & Bake (jeez what a terrible name, did they even know what they were hinting at?) buffet, they found blood. _A lot_ of blood; so much **blood.** It was Rick and Daryl who found the streaks of blood down the walls, the thick pools leading down to the end of the long hallway.

"Holy hell," Daryl murmured, shining his flashlight against the wall; the blood shined in some areas, some areas stayed black. "Could be old...could be Walker blood."

Rick pulled his gun from its holster, holding the barrel of the Colt at an angle. "Lets find out," he nodded.

Daryl looked back, seeing Michonne coming up the steps with Maggie. He shook his head, gesturing for them to come quietly. They shuffled towards him, weapons drawn and ready. He whispered at them to leave ahead of them and they complied; their car had the supplies for the kids, mainly Judith, they had to get back.

As soon as they were gone, Daryl and Rick exchanged a firm glance and they began to move down the hallway. Rick's heart was thumping down in his ears, as was Daryl's, but all that could be heard was their low, steady breathing; methodic from long hunts, methodic from long hours training.

When they reached the door, they paused, Daryl looking to Rick for confirmation. Rick hesitated then nodded, shuffling two feet approximately behind him. Daryl lowered his flashlight and crossbow then cocked a knee, thrusting his booted foot into the center of the door. It knocked back against the wall and the doorknob embedded itself into the drywall.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl lowered his crossbow, eyes wide.

Rick trembled when she looked back at them; for a moment, he could have sworn her eyes were black. She stood in the center of the room, blood striped in a perfect circle around her where three bodies were aligned in an odd way. She turned to them slowly, raising her hands in a similiar way; she had a gun in her right hand, colored in swirled patterns.

"Easy there boys," she murmured. Her eyes moved to Rick and she held out her gun. "I'm guessing you'll want to take this?"

He hesitated but did just that, jumping back as she bent over; she tossed a blade down to his feet...then grabbed the ankles of one of the bodies. Rick and Daryl shared another concerned glance as she drug the bodies - of three full grown men - with ease; Daryl kept his eyes on her with feral intent, and she noticed.

"I said easy," she straightened up after propping the men against the wall. "I have no intentions of harming you. Now, these guys," she pointed to the men. "I intentionally harmed them."

Rick opened his mouth to speak, hesitating when she pulled out a small black stick...was that eyeliner? She raised an arm and Rick noticed the several sets of tick marks crawling up her arm and she added three more to the collection. As she slipped the stick away, she looked over at Rick and he could have sworn she smirked, if only for a second.

"Name," Daryl spoke gruffly, taking charge where Rick fumbled; what the hell was his proble? He was acting like she was the first girl he had ever seen. If he was stunned by the bodies, Daryl could understand, but still.

She looked to him. "Phoebe...no last name."

Rick swallowed, licking his lips. "How many Walkers have you killed?"

She blinked. "12."

"How many humans have you killed," he looked to the bodies in the room, then her arm, dreading the answer.

She cocked her head and raised her arm. "A hundred and...thirty," she brushed back a strand of hair from her clavicle.

Rick stilled. "Why," he managed.

She shrugged. "Some of them attacked me..." she looked down. "Some attacked those I cared about."

"And these guys," Daryl gestured to the bodies with his crossbow.

She hesitated, and Rick noticed. "They attacked me," she managed. "You guys wanna sit here all day or what? Cause I have a feeling you didn't just ask me those questions for idle chat."

Rick sighed but didn't relax. "I gotta cuff you, its a long ride," he produced a gleaming pair of handcuffs.

She held her wrists out and smiled. "Cuff me, _Officer._ "

* * *

She's never felt so...unconcerned.

Usually her days were filtered through a delicate web of adrenaline and varied definitions of lust, but with her hands cuffed in the backseat of these strangers cars - Phoebe is...careless. Even with crystal blue eyes consistently watching when even one strand of hair shifts on her head. Daryl? That was his name, strapping young fellow if she did say so herself, but she couldn't be the one to judge.

She didn't care for the pines of flesh.

"Phoebe, right?"

Ah, Rick, thats where her attention lay. She looked to him, where he sat in the passengers seat, cocking her head just a fraction. He was even more scrutinizing than Daryl, and that was saying something. But she wouldn't pass judgement, she was a stranger. If she were even close to human, she would feel the same way.

In her current state, she just dug a blade into their sternum.

"Why yes, I'm flattered you remember," she chuckled.

It did nothing to ease the tension and Phoebe was only mildly dissapointed.

"Well, uh, thats an awfully nice gun you have there," Phoebe's eyes slackened, dulled in the corners. "Looks antique."

She smiled. "Oh yes, its quite old," her eyes flashed to the gun locked in a clear, plexiglass case in the center console. "But not at all delicate, if you know what I mean," she grinned.

And that unnerved Rick, the bold display of oddly shaped teeth. He swallowed and settled back into his seat, looking extremely uncomfortable; Phoebe's dark chuckle hung in the air. Daryl and Rick shared a look, Daryl looking slightly unfazed but still...well, weirded out, and that took an incredible feet.

"You understand we will observe you," Rick muttered gruffly.

"Of course, of course," Phoebe purred. "Its expected, what with the apocalypse and all."

"Yes well," Rick cleared his throat. "We won't lock you up though," she raised an ebony brow. "Putting you in a cage will make everyone nervous, and we don't need that. But I trust you to not do anything stupid."

Phoebe gave him a genuine smile. "I don't think you'll have a problem with me," she honestly hoped so.

"Well, we'll learn soon enough," Rick nodded. "We're here."

They were shacking up in an actual prison? Phoebe expected jail. A young boy and an Asian man pulled open the gates made of orange door, thrusting to Walkers on the left to be impaled by the wooden spikes placed behind the doors. Phoebe locked eyes briefly with the young boy, whose eyes were mostly dull. She looked ahead, faintly hearing the shrill cry of a baby; judging by the way Rick wiggled in his seat, impatiently, the baby was his.

"Whose this," the boy asked as Daryl helped Phoebe from the car.

She smiled down at him, and he was delightfully ignorant to her venom. "My name is Phoebe."

"Carl," they both looked to Rick as he barked out the boys name; there was a red faced baby in his arms and she just seemed so intrigued by Phoebe. "Help Daryl get the supplies from the trunk. And Daryl," the redneck looked up. "Undo her cuffs."

"Ya sure," Phoebe almost rolled her eyes.

"Yes," Rick pursed his lips as Daryl did as instructed; Phoebe rubbed her wrists gently. "Don' make me regret this," he warned before leading a gi4l with curly blonde hair into one of the cell blocks.

Phoebe swallowed, nodding even though he was gone. She didn't want to... _dissapoint._

* * *

"Think we can trust her?"

"Obviously not."

Daryl looked to Rick from where he was sitting on the steps into their cell block, rolling the arrow between his fingers into his right hand. Rick had his arms folded over his chest, hip cocked as he watched Phoebe talking with Lizzie; she was using her hands a lot and Lizzie seemed quite enthralled.

"She ain't done anythin' wrong yet," Daryl muttered.

"Yet," Rick sighed, but his eyes stayed firmly locked on the raven haired young woman laughing at something unheard; Lizzie beamed with pride. "And she's killed over a hundred people," Rick shook his head.

"Said they were a threat," Daryl murmured.

"She says," Rick finally looked down at Daryl, who straightened to full attention. "We've never run into anyone thats killed more people than us, besides the Governor, and we've never killed near a hundred. The Governor...who knows how many he killed."

"She seems normal to me," Daryl stood. "That sick fuck...don't compare anyone to him."

"She killed them by herself, Daryl," Rick took a step back, closer to Daryl, and almost jumped when Phoebe's head snapped to him. "That doesn't bother you?"

Daryl shrugged. "Sure it does, but I'm not passin' judgement just yet. Make 'er prove herself, she can't pass a test - we get rid of her."

Phoebe smiled and Rick couldn't look away, she seemed to enjoy that. When she looked away, he firmed his jaw and looked to Daryl. The redneck had noticed the exchange and looked slightly more cautious in visible demeanor, and that was a comfort to Rick.

"You're right," Rick sighed. "Guess I'm just a little jumpy to taking in people from the outside."

Daryl pat his shoulder, looking across the yard to where Beth was approaching; did he think Rick didn't notice? "You're not alone."

Rick nodded and looked away as Daryl met Beth halfway, looking back to where Phoebe and Lizzy had been sitting. But they were both gone.


End file.
